Broken Tides
by Six-string Samurai
Summary: As the Empire begins to falter, one woman searches for her place in trials to come. A Revision.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1

Kim Possible is property of Disney. All original characters are property of author. This is a work for fun, not profit. A Six-string Samurai fan fiction. Broken Tides.

A/N: Expanded and edited for clarity. Chapter One finally complete after for-ever. Cheers!

Chapter One

_Villa Gogola, Year 307_

Pressing pale fingers against the window pane, the youngest of the Gogola line stared out across still waters, toward the shadow that rested in the middle of the lake. The first of dawn's light had only begun to thin the morning fog, and the isle was still hidden from view. Though, there was no doubting that shape, or the heavy feeling that rested in her belly, just by knowing it was out there. But, no matter how much her dark brown eyes wished, that shadow would not vanish, forgotten, into the mists.

Breath fogging the glass as she tried to think back to more pleasant times, Sheri Gogola stiffened startled when a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder. The feeling faded within moments as she recognized the faint scent of sandalwood and cedar that her older brother was fond of.

Unmoving, the young raven-haired girl continued her vigil as time marched inexorably onward. Behind her, remaining in companionable silence, she could tell Hector was just as worried. In any other circumstance, he would have said something the moment he found her wandering the halls, but not this time. After all, what could he say in the face of what they both knew was inevitable. Words of comfort would be empty, only a reminder of what they stood to lose.

Still, the grip on her shoulder tightened, almost uncomfortably, and that was enough for her. It conveyed far more than wasted breath, and Sheri knew that her brother would do everything in his power to ensure that this would not be forgotten. The Gogola name would not suffer for this day. That was his unspoken promise to her. It gave her some measure of strength, made brighter the hope that lay at the bottom of her being; hope for a better tomorrow.

"It's about time to go," the distinctive rumble of her brother's voice pulled Sheri's gaze away from the window.

"Already," she asked, knowing the answer. He wouldn't have come otherwise, having spent the morning in a meeting with the Seneschal and the Blue Robe.

"Yes, the boat's sure to be ready. I-I wanted them to give you a little more time, but this was the best I could manage," Hector's firm grip left his sister, trailing off slowly as if she might collapse the moment he let go. "Meno told me you went to see Mother," he paused, uncomfortable with the subject, and they both knew it. "You didn't have to do that."

Sheri glared up at her brother, who towered over her, though she'd been starting to catch up over the last harvest season. "You were planning to stop me," it was as much a question as an accusation.

"No, and you wouldn't have listened to me anyway. I just didn't want you going down there any more than necessary," he turned away, not wanting this to be the way they parted.

"Is it too much that I wanted to see her? Let her see me like this," Sheri stepped away from the window, slippers padding against the cold tiles underfoot. "You're jealous that I wasn't scared to see her," she spun on her heel sharply enough to whip her chocolate tresses through the air as she stormed past her brother's stunned expression.

"You should think about that, Hector. After all, you'll have to do it eventually, or I won't forgive you. I'll hold it against you for the rest of my life. Maybe if you beg, Meno will go with you, but you might have to pay him to," her words were bitingly smug, and all too reminiscent of a Gogola woman. It didn't suit her pale, childish figure in the least. All it did was remind Hector of what they were all losing in this bargain.

"I don't want to talk about this, I just," he threw up his  
hands in frustration. The whole situation was wearing on them all, and here he was, only adding to the misery. "This wasn't how it was supposed to be." He watched as his sister paused, halting her steps a few feet away.

"What did you think was going to happen? You knew, just like everyone else. Sometimes, we don't have a choice. Not for our family. Mother knew that, and made sure I did too," Sheri folded her arms in an unconscious imitation of said woman. "I can do this. I'm not afraid," she spoke evenly, while inside, her stomach roiled at the prospect. She stared at her brother, who met those shining brown eyes with no less pride. There was no question about what being a Gogola meant. It was a heavy burden to bear, but the weight wasn't unbearable.

After all, there were only two possible outcomes, either they could save the world, or condemn it. It was no small matter that a girl so young, not quite into her fourteenth summer, was tasked with giving up so much. It was also a thankless task, and must remain so, in order to succeed.

"Sheri," he looked as if he were going to say something more, but tightened his jaw, mirroring the resolve on his little sister's face. Instead, he merely nodded. She was right, and there was nothing left to say that wouldn't lead to regret. This was the best way to leave it. The young woman before his eyes deserved at least that much from him, he owed her for all the hardships he and their other brother, Meno, had visited upon her when they were all children. Yet, how they were paying her back? With exile.

It was too much, and it tore at him, not just as her brother, or even as Hector Gogola, but as a young man in search of his own meaning, his own honor. It was a heavy burden indeed, he reflected, as the two of them fell back into silence, walking side by side through the chilly stone halls. "I'm sorry," he ventured at last, just before they reached the arch that would lead them out to the courtyard and out to the docks. "About everything."

"Don't be. I'm not," the raven haired girl looked up at her brother, and then out over the courtyard at the small assembly gathered there. "I don't have to deal with all of Father's mistakes anymore, not after this."

"Or Meno," the broad shouldered Hector smiled, but it made him look twice his age.

"Or him," she nodded, heedless of the hiccup in her voice, or the wetness shining on her cheeks. It was getting harder to keep her feet moving forward.

Before the two made it halfway across the flagstones that divided the courtyard from the garden, they were met by the Seneschal and his retainers. Lord Fiske wasn't a tall man, but one could be forgiven for mistaking him so at a distance, due to his thin spindly limbs, and the haughty way he carried himself. That he was stuffy, demanding and entirely too self-important meant little to the Gogolas present. To them, he was something of an eccentric uncle, a long-standing friend of the family, and one of their father's staunchest supporters.

That the Seneschal, by title, was the voice of the Emperor in the surrounding countryside had little consequence to them growing up. The reality of his position hadn't really set in until three days ago, when Lord Fiske arrived at the Villa amidst a late summer storm, a look of resignation across his brow, and one of the Emperor's Blue Robes in tow.

Things had quickly turned around for the family at that moment. The time had come upon them, sneaking, crawling and worming past all their defenses. Though their station revolved around their role in the continued prosperity of the Empire, for the children, time passed slowly. Nevertheless, this day had come too soon, even with the constant reminder of their mother, a mother so near and completely distant all the same. It was a fate that Sheri now bore, and had been prepared for up until this day.

"Everything is in order, the only thing remaining is your presence, young Gogola," Fiske intoned, waving off the two robed men flanking him. Scratching at the sparse beginnings of a beard, the Seneschal looked off through the rapidly thinning fog, towards the tiny isle where several flickering orange lights could be seen. "I'm afraid we no longer have time to dally," he crouched down, bent at the waist to bring him level with the girl. "I trust you said all of your good byes," the look in his eyes was stern but not uncaring.

She only nodded in response, her attention alternating between that piercing gaze and the lights dancing out on the lake.

"Good, I'd hate to think what your father might say to me if you'd been neglectful," he gave her something that might have been a grimace on anyone else, but for a serious man like Lord Fiske, it was a beaming smile, and probably meant to be reassuring.

"Mother sends you her regards," the raven haired girl spoke at length, when the silence and the smile grew stifling to her. She might have slipped a blade between his ribs for how quickly his expression twisted.

The Seneschal drew up, glaring over Sheri's head at Hector, who met his gaze, albeit flinching mildly. "I don't suppose you might have had a hand in this," Fiske's voice dripped with distaste, and unveiled disappointment. "You should know well enough your father's wishes. Not to mention, have a bit of common sense. This is hard enough on your sister, without making things more difficult that need be."

"Of course, Lord Fiske," Hector bunched up his shoulders, as if he were trying to tuck his head away. "It was my mistake," he flushed, grumbling out a half-apology.

The thin man clicked his tongue, "I don't suppose it matters at this point, but you'd do well to keep your duties in mind, if you plan on carrying the line," he knotted his brows, "It's not enough to fill your father's boots. You have to be able to walk in them, and they are weighty indeed. But, that is talk for another day," Fiske turned away, taking Sheri's hand up in his own long fingers. "Come, we're only waiting on you. I pray that this dalliance is not too late."

Behind them, Hector dropped his head and wondered why it had come to this. Wasn't the country great? The Emperor was next to the gods; his hand reached far and crushed their enemies. That this even came to pass was beyond consideration. It bore deeper thinking, and left him with questions that he dare not ask. That the need for a family such as theirs existed at all was hard enough to come to terms with. In light of the duty they had been tasked as far back as the line was recorded, were they just sacrificial lambs in the end?

Because, that was all he could see, an ill made fate. His sister was the very image of their mother, regardless of the fate the two shared. He didn't want to watch, and Hector knew that his brother was of like mind, as was their father. But, the Seneschals' words rang true. There was a duty to be done. In the end, what was one life when weighed against the country? No matter that it was his baby sister who was being offered up. It was the right thing to do, even if he didn't believe that in the bottom of his heart. It was for the peace of the Empire, and what was one life in light of that? Rationality didn't quash the distaste in the back of his throat.

Shaking his head, the eldest of the Gogola children set his shoulders and hurried after the retreating forms of his sister and Lord Fiske as they headed to the small dock and the boat that would ferry them all to the isle. In just a few short hours, like them, the Villa would be poorer for this.

But, the Empire would enjoy another hundred years of peace and prosperity. The people would once again be safe, spared the waking of the terror that dwelled in the distant frigid peaks. If only they knew. He didn't linger on that for long, for there was more immediate concern. Hector caught up and took up his position just behind his sister on the boat. Overhead, the clear blue sky stared down, far too cheery for his liking.

The ride across the placid waters took little time, and the boat reached the island shore much too soon for either Gogola. But, they had arrived, and there was nothing for it but to finish what had to be done with the dignity expected of them. Because, in the end, they knew full well that this was a fated thing, decided from the moment Sheri took her first breath. Stilling the tremor in her hands, she stepped onto the soft grass as Lord Fiske beckoned.

"Come, I can already see that the Blue Robe is anxious to begin. We've dallied far too long as it is," he took the young girl's hand and led her to the edge of a large stone ring that almost completely spanned the tiny isle. The remnants of seven wide columns surrounded the smooth stone, once supports for large dome, now relics of the first ceremony, ages past.

As countless times before, and probably well into the future, a Blue Robe of the Emperor was waiting to perform the binding. Though the Seneschal mentioned a sense of urgency, neither of the Gogolas present could tell from the nearly motionless figure standing next to one of the blazing braziers arranged around the stone. The Blue Robe might very well have been a statue himself, and looked to remain that way until the end of time.

But, that changed the moment that Sheri stepped up onto the cool stone platform. This was a momentous occasion in her life, and as with everything else important in that short span, her father wasn't present. The head of the Gogola house was seldom around to begin with. She didn't begrudge him this particular occasion though. She would have wished to avoid this if she had a choice in the matter as well. Not that it didn't hurt that he was absent. It was just another memory that she would carry with her for a very long time to come.

Steeling herself as best she could, the young woman took another step toward the center of the platform. The Blue Robe was there, waiting. As from the moment the mage had arrived, she still couldn't make out the face beneath the heavily shadowed hood. There wasn't even enough to say truly whether the figure was a man, or a woman, or something else besides. It lent power to the personage of the Blue Robes, and a dangerous air all at once.

Even out here, away from the heart of the Empire, the Order was feared for their role as the deft hand of the Emperor. They were a mystery, and a legend. As far as she knew, the Order was almost without boundaries. They moved where they wished, and acted with impunity, given lease by the Emperor himself. Her father had told her as much, on the few occasions he availed himself to his family.

Still, the vaguely threatening air about the Blue Robe was little in comparison to her visit that very same morning. She'd gone to see her mother, and recalling that was enough to stop the trembling in her hands. There was very little in the world that could hold candle to the experience she put herself through each time she descended those stairs. Even Hector was too much like their father to make the trip.

She very much doubted he'd do the same for her, though she'd threatened him if he failed to scrounge up the courage. If he didn't, the guilt would eat away at him, she hoped. That was probably what had happened to their father all those years ago. She'd never allowed herself to see that, but it rang true enough now that she was standing here, where her mother and generations of Gogola women had stood before.

As the Blue Robe affixed heavy chains to her wrists, she waited, trying not to think about her own fate. It was another that she decided to consider. The Empire, the people, the things she was supposedly sacrificing herself for, they didn't matter to her in the least. She wasn't doing this for them, no matter what the Gogola line had been taught to believe.

No, this was for her mother, she decided. Because in the end, that is who would be free. Sheri was only taking the elder Gogola's place. It wasn't even forever. If she was lucky, she would see her mother again in a few years time.

The young Gogola stood in the center of the circle, bound hand and foot, with the shackles linking to chains that fanned out to each of the seven pillars. On her wrists and ankles, the heavy shackles bore inscriptions in a language that she didn't care to understand. Merely looking at the script for any length of time, made her head buzz.

The characters were familiar though, as she had seen them before. Her mother was bound much the same, and had been for as long as Sheri could remember. For now, the manacles were inert, but as the Blue Robe affixed the last chain, that soon changed. The air around the platform grew warmer, unseasonably so, as the Blue Robe stepped away and began to chant, the words too low to make out. The etched symbols started to glow, faintly at first, but brighter until Sheri felt she could see them even with her eyes closed. Then, the first flicker of pain struck, and she couldn't help but cry out…

* * *

_Fifteen years later…_

* * *

With a soft thud, the last of three brown robed guards stumbled backward against the side of the carriage, a shaft with green feathers protruding from his shoulder. Muttering curses and struggling to right himself, he managed to get to one knee before the bitter tang of steel pressed rather insistently against the side of his neck. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, the guard glared upward at the figure standing over him on the other end of the blade, "You're making a big mistake. This is going to Escadi…you won't get far," the short-haired guard thumbed his uninjured hand at a large crest painted on the side of the double doors behind him.

Like he said, the marking was unmistakable, a golden lotus blossom over a white field. It would be next to impossible to travel with it on unsanctioned roads; the main road toward the Capitol was out of the question.

Sharp enough to shave with; the blade pressed closer, drawing an angry red line on the guard's throat. He fought the urge to swallow, and spoke in the lightest of whispers, "You don't have to do this…we can work something out. Whatever you want." He tried to focus his attention on his attacker, rather than the threat implied, but the sun was almost directly overhead and nearly blinding.

"Escadi. If it's going there, it's probably for the Baron. Which means it's worth the trouble I went through," the assailant finally spoke, almost thinking aloud.

If the definitely feminine voice surprised him, the guard didn't let it show, "I don't know what you've heard, but the Baron doesn't suffer thieves. You'd be lucky to lose both your hands for the trouble," he croaked out, mindful of his windpipe.

"And you'll be lucky if I let you go crawling back to whatever rock they found you under. Now, be quiet while I decide what to do with the three of you," the shadow stood up straight, though the blade never so much as wavered.

The two of them remained at a standstill for nearly two minutes longer, before the blade was withdrawn and sheathed before the guard could draw a sigh of relief. Despite his self-serving warning, this was only the fourth time he'd worked escort duty on this route, and the first time they'd been ambushed. The Emperor's seal had long been a deterrent for highway robbery. Then again, that was before the problems on the western border two years ago. That was the reason why they'd taken to traveling in groups of three or more.

He shot a quick glance at his fellows, both of whom were laid out flat on the side of the road, almost hidden in the weeds. It was supposed to have been a quick piss break. Now they were up to their necks in it. Shit, they would be hard pressed to keep their jobs after this. Forget telling the Captain exactly what had happened either. This was of course assuming they were heading back at all in the first place. "This mean you're letting us go?"

"I guess that depends on your cargo, and what it's worth," the back lit figure mused, putting a hand on its hip. "Care to enlighten me?"

The guard was dumb-struck. There actually were people willing to risk inciting the Baron's anger on a gamble, even with the recent trouble around the countryside, it was an absurd notion. He craned his head back, glancing at the coach, he eyed the prominently displayed golden crest.

Then again, the Baron wasn't the only person that bore considering. This was a personal delivery from the Emperor, himself. Not that it was anything of particularly high value, or there would have been a much larger escort. At least, that's what the three of them had been told, none of the escorts actually knew what was inside. It wasn't their business, it was enough to know that it belonged to the Baron, the guard conceded to himself. Anyone foolish enough to rob the Baron was only begging for trouble.

It seemed the guard's involuntary silence wasn't the answer the robber was looking for, and a sharp cough bit the air, "You don't have all day. And, neither do I."

The guard turned his attention back, wincing as the motion jarred his shoulder, just as the rough sole of a leather boot slammed into him. The kick caught him in the center of his chest and sent him sprawling flat on his back. Fresh waves of nausea laced pain roiled in his gut from the tumble.

"This works better for me," the lithe figure loomed over the downed guard for a moment, then keeping him pinned with a foot across his chest and upper arm, yanked the arrow free from his shoulder. As the steel tip wasn't pronged it slipped out with only small effort on her part. "Sit there until I leave. One or both of your friends should be waking up shortly. If you three have a brain among you, none of you should have to worry about bleeding to death," the pressure left his chest as the robber stepped away to the door of the carriage. "Now, let's take a look, shall we."

Deciding it was a lost cause at this point, the guard lay there while the carriage was rummaged through, keeping as much pressure as he could bear to staunch the free flowing blood. He could only hope that the injury would mitigate his punishment for failing in his duty. Not that second chances were likely.

She'd been at this for nearly three years now, and her sense of what was useful, and what amounted to little more than an aristocrat's fancy, had grown by leaps and bounds. Most of that knowledge was hard won through trial and error, and of course, making a few friends in the right places. Picking the lock on the doors of the carriage had proved a moment's work, and no sooner said than done.

Throwing the doors open wide to the sunlight and warm breeze the young woman, known to most as the Red Sylph, found the Baron's precious cargo to be somewhat lacking.

"This is everything, is it," the question was tossed over her shoulder to the downed escort, though she received no reply. Indeed, there was very little in the way of cargo, precious or otherwise. Nothing more than a few pallets of folded cloth, two wooden chests, and a few other odds and ends stacked up under a shelf at the back of the carriage.

Rifling through the cargo, she checked the chests first and let the lids drop back down after only a moment. They held several large glass jars, each filled with various colored powders. It might have been spices, but even so was worthless to her. She could probably find a willing buyer in the city, there was just the tiny matter of hauling around the containers. The crates all bore the Crest, and were just asking for trouble, not to mention moving them in the first place. "Well, just great," her prospects were quickly dwindling.

After a bit, she cleared a space through the junk and was able to get to the shelf at the back to get at a tied up trio of leather tubes and a small lacquered box. "Wouldn't it have been easier just to hand carry this," she rolled her eyes, "There better be something halfway decent in here," she unsecured the box, taking it down from the shelf. An intricate golden design was painted across the surface of the dark red wood, just under the varnish. It was a little too flowery, and definitely far too light, for her liking.

As with the door, the maker of the box might as well not have bothered attaching a lock. Popping the lid, she peered inside and it was all she could do to keep from tossing it against the wall in frustration. Nothing but a few sheaves of parchment, not even worth breaking the latch in the first place. Moreover, the scrawl that passed for writing on the top page was horribly illegible. The best she could make of the top sheet was that it appeared to be some kind of writ for taxation. While it might be important to the Baron, it was next to useless to someone like her.

Rifling to the bottom, just to be sure, she ended up tossing it back onto the shelf. Frankly, it didn't really matter to her one way or the other what the Baron, or even the other Landlords were doing. The Emperor's word might be Law, but Escadi was hardly Amadis, the Capitol.

Out here, the Baron and his followers made their own rules, and whether the citizen's money lined their coffers or the Emperor's it was all the same at the end of the day. Everyone did what they had to, to survive. She'd long come to terms with that. And if surviving meant stealing from the rich to feed yourself, then so be it.

Leather gloved fingers closed around the trio of tubes, praying for even a small bit of fortune to offset the time and effort she'd already spent gathering the information on this delivery in the first place. Not bothering to separate the three hard cases, the red-haired robber popped all of them open, peering down into the meter long cylinders. Each bore a thin roll of soft leather. Setting it all down, she withdrew one of the rolls, letting it unfurl so she could see it in the sunlight that poked in through the open doors. Her eye traveled over some of the familiar, and not so familiar markings etched onto the soft hide. "A map…but something's off."

Indeed, a large section on what appeared to be the eastern edge was simply blank. While she hadn't seen a true map of the Empire before, there was little doubt that she was holding such a thing in her hands. It was enough that she found Escadi clearly marked out. The hand was much neater and obviously not the same that had scrawled the writs she'd found. On a hunch, she set aside the first map and dug out one of the others. Like the first, it was mildly defaced. Curios that, but she didn't have the luxury of time to figure it out just now.

Rolling up the maps, the woman who some called Red Slyph, among other less flattering names, slung the bundle of tubes across a shoulder, where they thumped softly against the quiver of arrows on her back. Taking one last quick check around the place, she shook her head and stepped back out into the afternoon sun. It might have been a waste, and then again, maybe not. There were people willing to pay for such finely detailed maps, even if they were a little damaged. The protective casings were unmarked by the Golden Lotus made the possibility of pawning it off much greater.

The downed guard watched with troubled eyes as the future of his career faded away, like the blazing flash of red that disappeared into the tall grass at the edge of the dirt road. How was he supposed to explain this to the Baron? None would believe that three trained soldiers were bested by one lone brigand, and a woman at that. If his shoulder didn't hurt quite so much, he might have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Instead, he pulled himself back to his feet and went to check on the other two, maybe they were luckier and had only been knocked unconscious. The woman had only implied that she'd left them alive, so there were no guarantees. If worse came to worse, and he found them dead, well he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Coreb wasn't well known for anything in particular, aside from being a little off the beaten path, nestled snugly between the eastern edge of an expanse of forest, and the wide plains to the south of Escadi. The town, barely large enough to count as such, was pastoral, and nearly indistinguishable from its surroundings. Aside from the yearly tithe collector sent from the north western city of Whitefort, the Emperor might as well have been blind to its existence. The people went about their lives with that in mind, and worked toward keeping their own peace.

Once in a while, a traveling merchant would wander by, and might be welcomed, usually in exchange for news from abroad. Though most wanderers were discouraged from settling down, and usually moved on after spending a night or two lodging in the spare room above the village's general store.

It was there that Red Sylph was currently staying while she decided what best to do now that her recent venture had all but failed. Getting her hands on the escort schedule hadn't been cheap, and she'd been counting on a few hundred Fels, which would have more than made up the difference. Instead, all she had to show for her effort was a set of maps. As good as they appeared, she needed something more substantial. Something that would pay her way across the borderlands and have enough left over to charter passage on a ship.

Though the arm of the Empire was long, its grip was wavering. The Emperor was old, frail. He had been well past his middle years, even in her father's day. Still, there were those that had grown fat and happy in his care, and they supported him blindly to this day. That loyalty came at a price. Land and lavish gifts, those were the price for obedience. The Barons benefited most of all, even ones in the outskirts like here. That fact was exactly what she counted on, since they had to all be hand delivered. It just so happened that her hands were in the right place at the right time, now and again.

The Capitol was stirring, and few knew what to make of it. Even here in the outskirts, tension was beginning to spread. Visitors were fewer in number as the Emperor sought to tighten his hold on the main roads, restricting travel. Official traffic was also avoiding the countryside routes more and more often, confined solely to the Emperor's road. Writs of Passage were becoming the norm, and check points dotted the provinces bordering the center of the Empire.

All told, it was steadily making the Red Sylph's job that much harder, more costly, and increasingly dangerous, as she generally worked alone. There were her contacts of course, those dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. But, none of them so willing to put their necks firmly on the line, as she did. Their trade was limited to information, not action. She couldn't fault them for it, not completely. Besides, without that sort of aid, she wouldn't be able to continue on as she was. Unless the whispers of rebellion were of more substance than shadow, and that bore looking into.

However, any change would be slowed in reaching Escadi and its environs. The Baron would see to that, and he was a capable man indeed. She had a healthy respect of the man, and was wary of crossing him openly. If anything, this latest attempt to procure funds was reason enough to move on. Coreb was quiet, but that just meant her passing through would be all the more noticeable.

Much like elsewhere, no one here owed her anything, so she'd made well sure to keep her activities far from the nearby roads. The trek back from the coach had been a long one, nearly half a day on foot. None of the guards had been left in a position to follow her, and she'd made sure to double back more than once on her own trail to throw off any unlikely pursuit.

For the moment, she was holed up in the little room above the General Store. The store keep was nice enough to rent it out to her through the week's end. That meant she had one more night, and would need to be off on the road again come dawn, which was fine by her.

There was little need to bring trouble into this little hamlet. She rather liked the peace and quiet, and might have a need to pass through in the future. That was of course, provided she didn't strike it rich as she firmly planned on doing. But, a more pressing matter had her attention over flights of fancy. Current profits, and how she could make them, took precedence.

It had been approaching dusk when she'd made it through what passed for the gate into Coreb. The light swiftly faded this time of year, and holed up in the tiny room, the sole window was already covered in shadow. She'd already shed the forestry garb and was lounging about in her small clothes. The bolt to the door was shut as habit dictated, and the red haired thief was pouring over the maps that she'd liberated earlier by candlelight.

All three proved to be missing portions. Though she found that could be possibly remedied, and began laying them all down side by side. As the third map was blank to the west and southern region, it wasn't hard to put the three back into the right order. Crouching down, the redhead considered her handiwork.

"So, this is the whole of it then," her eyes roamed across the lands that the Empire spanned, the original country lines still visible, but in most cases renamed as either protectorates, or doled out to various Lords in longstanding service to the Emperor's seat. It was all very current as far as she could judge given her penchant for travel.

There were a few curious things about the combined layout, but the one that caught her eye was a spot not far from Escadi. Unlike the rest of the otherwise pristine skin, this section appeared to be deliberately marred, almost like someone had started to burn it off but then reconsidered at the last moment. Under the charred blotch she could barely make out a few bits of blue that might be a lake, or a spring.

Given the sheer size of the map, it was hard to judge distances, but the blotch was somewhere to the north east of the city, close to the foothills. Maybe one of the locals would know a thing or two about it, though she wasn't too thrilled with the prospect of digging for information up in Escadi proper.

Still, someone had gone through the trouble of shipping this particular set of maps all the way from Amadis. The Baron was meant to have it, but things hadn't turned out that way. Something was clearly hidden, and kept from common knowledge. An important something if the feeling in her gut was anything to go by, and it usually was. It spoke of money, and that wasn't a feeling she was inclined to ignore.

Reaching for one of her knives in her pack slung around the headboard, she gingerly scraped at the scorched area, removing a little of the char at a time until it was eventually uncovered. There was script beneath the burnt layer as the ink had evidently soaked down into the map. The hand was barely legible in the first place, but she could just make out a portion of the two words near what had to be a lake. "Gogol-," she mouthed, the name not holding any particular meaning that she could recall. But, it was something she could start pressing her contacts in near Escadi with.


	2. Chapter 2

Kim Possible is property of Disney. This is a work for fun, not profit. A Six-string Samurai fan fiction. Broken Tides.

Chapter Two

Ronald Fen Haltbar, originally of the Amadian Fen Haltbars, was feeling a great multitude of things at present, but pleased was not one of them. If his hands weren't nearly frozen in spite of the thick furred gloves, he would have liked to count the annoyances. He was freezing, saddle sore, and bone weary from the long trek up through the mountain pass. He hurt in places he didn't know he had, and to top it all off, his companion did not look the worse for wear.

"You think we're close," he grit out beneath the layered hood he wore. Tufts of blond hair, dotted with ice, poked out from beneath the hood, catching moisture from the clouds of breath as he spoke. "Feels like the path is widening up ahead."

Leading the way, the traveler didn't reply, but only nodded. It had been like that since the first sign of snowfall some hours back, when the pair had entered the foothills.

Fen Haltbar did not quite take offense at the lack of conversation. The biting chill in the air made it hard to breathe, and almost painful to talk for any length of time. Not that present company had been all that engaging since setting out. He'd done quite a fair job of holding up his end thus far in his opinion. Of course, the Fen Haltbars were not exactly known for their witty banter.

Being too outspoken had gotten them into the sorry state the family was in, and had led the eldest son of the Fen Haltbars into this present situation. Not that he'd been the one to overtly criticize the Emperor's trade restrictions. That had been his father's doing. The Fen Haltbars had been ostracized politically and publicly after that, forced to remove themselves from the ancestral home in Amadis.

Now, they'd relocated to old family lands on his mother's side, south of Escadi border. It was a sizable estate, but dwarfed by their old manor in the inner circle of the Capitol. Nevertheless, they were still landed Lords, and that just meant they needed to earn back the Emperor's favor. That was something not likely to happen, given the recent increase in restrictions and tightening of Imperial control, all things that his father vehemently opposed.

Further opposition was gathering, slowly and steadily, away from the watchful eye of Amadis. Out here in the periphery, there were more like minded individuals willing to discuss other avenues that the Empire would do well to consider if it hoped to prosper. Still, it was a fledgling movement, and couldn't afford to draw undue attention to itself. The last thing they wanted to do was draw down the wrath of the Lords in Amadis.

There was also the nearby Baron to worry about. The man was a staunch supporter of the Emperor, but also content to maintain his own demesne. Solidifying his power base was paramount, and trucking with potential dissenters to the Imperial throne went against maintaining even minimal autonomy.

Before the young man, the pass began to widen more visibly, and the bitter wind abated somewhat, much to his relief. The air remained cold, though the feeling of ice tipped daggers no longer pierced right through the cloak he was bundled in. Spurred on by the mild change, he urged his mount to keep pace with the other horse in front.

Much like the foothills they'd traversed, the valley spreading out beyond the pass was blanketed in pristine white nearly from end to end. It had begun snowing earlier that morning on the other side of the pass, but from the half buried trees he could see nearby, the weather had been less kind here. Aside from the snowy expanse, there was a dark blot on the southern horizon, just before the surrounding mountains began looming high above. Beside that blotch, a glistening blue, quite unlike the near blinding white that covered the rest of the wide valley. "Is that it," Ronald found himself asking, as he took in the sight.

Ahead of him, the other rider didn't turn, but the reply reached Fen Haltbar clearly all the same, "Gogola Villa."

With their destination firmly in sight, the pair left the pass and descended into the valley proper. It was much less strenuous than navigating the rocky foothills, but not without danger. They had to be wary of the snow banks. The fresh snow crunched softly beneath the horses hoof falls, but it was difficult to judge the true lay of the land hidden under the pristine whiteness.

Thankfully, the thin trees that dotted the valley were clustered together with a wide open space running the length of what barely counted as a forest. The horses kept to the center of that faint divide, which probably was a manmade path during the spring and summer months. Here the snow was less than half a meter deep and they had little trouble making their way across toward the villa.

Approaching from the north, the pair found that the estate bordered on a wide lake, currently a vast plain of ice in the center of which a large shape loomed too distant to properly make out against the afternoon glare. Fen Haltbar was more concerned with the estate that rose up before them. Though his traveling companion paused, hand raised to shield from the reflection of the sun, and appeared to be studying the far shape. The disgraced noble turned his attention to the villa. It wasn't quite what he expected, not at all.

Gogola Villa had seen clearly seen better days. The sprawling estate covered a good deal of land, and consisted of a large structure and two smaller buildings, perhaps more. Even from a distance, the stonework was impressive, mostly comprised of carefully shaped chunks of blue and dark gray, reminiscent of the far mountain peaks ringing the valley. Perhaps it had been mined from some nearby quarry, he thought as he took in the slightly imposing sight.

It wasn't a fortress, though one could not dismiss the solid nature of the place. The ill weather only served to increase the impression that visitors were discouraged. Ronald dismounted and walked the rest of the way up to the main entrance, leading his horse with reins in hand. Behind him, he heard the faintest crunch of snow that indicated his companion was doing the same.

"Do you think anyone still lives here," Ronald asked when he heard the crunch of boots to his right. He frowned beneath the layers of cloth that kept the cold from his face. The reason he bothered asking was the building looked abandoned. Snow was piled up against the outer door and the eastern wall was scorched in several places. The door itself was warped and cracked, bent nearly out of place in the frame.

"Perhaps, but unlikely," the soft voice Ron had come to associate with the traveler came out barely more than a whisper, yet it was easy to make out just the same. "Whatever happened here was not recent."

Fen Haltbar wasn't sure how one could judge that sort of thing. It simply wasn't in his experience to know. But, he conceded the point, because the damage sort of looked old. There was no smell of ash, or fire, he realized. It was quiet here. No sound of wildlife, no sense of anything living aside from them. It was disconcerting, truth told. "So, do we just go in? I don't see anywhere to tie the horses," he cast about for signs of a stable, but if there was one it was likely around the far side of the villa.

"A tree will do," was all the other said.

"Yeah, a tree," Ronald muttered to himself, feeling mildly annoyed for not thinking of it in the first place. He felt confident that he could just leave his horse to her devices out here. She was well trained and would likely not move far from this spot while waiting for him to return. But, he didn't want to risk being stranded if the weather turned for the worse, and anything happened. Securing their mounts, the pair entered the villa proper, squeezing past the broken door.

The square courtyard they found themselves in was overgrown with dead weeds and unkempt hedges. Further evidence of fire damage had been imprinted on the interior walls, and portions of the overhanging roof had collapsed. As with the mangled door, it didn't appear as if anything untoward had happened recently. An ornate fountain in the center of the square was completely dry, grown over with creeping vines, and coated in thin layers of frost where the snow had not piled up. They crossed the empty courtyard and made their way up to a set of doors, smashed in much the same manner as the first had been.

"Anyone home," Ronald called out as he pushed aside the broken door, setting foot inside the villa proper. He found it was quite dark within, despite the ample sunlight outside. As he'd imagined, there was no answer, and the air was just as cold and uninviting. He pulled down the layer of scarves so he could see better and tossed back his hood as well, shunting small bits of ice from his hair in the process.

Even abandoned as it seemed, the place had a certain look about it, one that spoke of years of accumulated wealth, and refined taste. A large rug lined the entryway, finely crafted. He didn't recognize the pattern of the weave, though it was clearly not from any of the local regions. The styling was too ornate and too intricate. Perhaps it might have been a custom piece, and valued at one time. Now, left to the elements and whatever travesty had occurred here, the rug was in shambles, frayed and mottled with dirt where it was nearest the open door.

The rest of the entry hall had suffered a similar fate, with large vases covered in dust, sporting minor cracks and in one case, the remains of a bird's nest. A fine wooden mantle rested between two green and gold pillars that supported the far central wall. The wall itself was discolored above the mantle, marred by scorch marks similar to what he had seen on the outside the villa. Something had once hung there, perhaps a coat of arms, or a tapestry. He could easily guess that much judging from the shape left by where the sunlight and ash hadn't quite reached the paint beneath.

Jutting off from the central room, the villa appeared to be separated into two wings, the left and right sides each folding around to enclose the open air courtyard they'd just passed through. However glancing toward each wing, it was easy to see that the side bordering the lake extended further toward the rear of the estate.

"Do not waste your breath, Fen Haltbar. This place, it is abandoned. Perhaps worse."

Ronald turned to regard the young woman who had also dropped her hood now that they were completely out of the wind. The hood fell across the top of a long wooden box she wore strapped across her back. She'd only removed the hood once before in the short time that they had been acquainted, and he could understand why.

The lighter cast of her skin and hair the color of a moonless night were not often seen in the Empire. Further the almond shape of her eyes, and soft curve of her chin, marked her as foreign, one of the great mountain tribe across the western ocean, a Monbani woman.

As far as she'd let on, she had come as part of an envoy to Amadis to further trade negotiations between the Empire and her own country of Uman. None of which explained her reasons for traveling to Escadi, or the more than ample payment for an escort, of which she seemed to have little need. If anything, Ronald Fen Haltbar was acting less as a guide, and more as a pack mule. She was the one with the map, though he'd been relied upon in the city and the outlying province. But here, at the edge of the mountains, the roles had shifted somewhat.

"Come, let us see what there is to find," the woman said, apparently set on heading further into the villa. Her short hair swished slightly across the nape of her neck as she moved, catching the blond noble's attention as much as the import of her words.

He hadn't known the why of the journey, only that the Monbani was intent on finding this particular estate. He wasn't a local by any stretch of the word, though the Fen Haltbar's had now lived near the Escadi Baron's demesne for years now. The name Gogola held no meaning or familiarity, and he'd done his fare share of asking about the city before agreeing to act as escort.

Strangely enough, this woman, Yori, had arrived on his family's property nearly a week past. She'd requested an audience with his father at first, but eventually sought out Ronald himself, for reasons she had not disclosed. It was entirely within reason that she'd told more to the head of the Fen Haltbar family. His father was a shrewd man when he chose to be, and may have simply elected not to enlighten his son. It had happened before, and would be the case in the future.

She'd seemed quite adamant that Ronald be her guide, and the Empire coin she offered up in compensation was considerable given the request. His father had taken the chance and the coin with little fanfare, making Ronald's decision for him. There had been nothing to do but acquiesce, as suspicious as he'd found the amount of payment for what had seemed at the time, a simple enough matter.

The Fen Haltbar family coffers weren't so sorely in need of replenishing, as far as he was aware. But, there was also no reason to refute the request, not after he'd taken the liberty of checking into the Gogola line. He hadn't found one record in the city registry, or when he'd asked around. No mention was to be found. It was as if the family had never existed, and that had his curiosity. Even if this was to have been chasing after shadows, it would be worth the money just to satisfy him on the matter.

Ronald scratched at the faint stubble along his jaw, courtesy of two days away from the razor. It was nearly as much as he could manage, beards having been in fashion lately. But, he wasn't quite so blessed yet. Perhaps a few years would make a difference. For now, it just looked pathetic and itched where the clasp of his cloak rubbed against his neck.

Sighing, he started after the slightly shorter form of the woman he was supposed to be guiding. He found his steps quickening lest he lose her in the growing gloom that pervaded the interior of the villa. He hadn't expected it to be so dark, otherwise he might have considered unpacking materials to fashion a torch.

They left the main hall and started down the wing facing the lake. It was lined with arched windows in both directions, most of which were intact. Ornate latticework paneling set over the window panes cast long twisting shadows throughout the hall. It lent the impression that they were walking across a long and fragile spider web.

Ronald's boots echoed startlingly loud in the tiled corridor, while he barely heard Yori move though he was right behind her as she headed away from the courtyard deeper into the villa. It made for a rather eerie experience, doubly so with the stillness of the air around them.

"What are we looking for, exactly," the blond asked, wanting to fill the silence as much as he was actually curious. They had come all this way, and he was still in the dark as to her intentions. He'd found no record of this place, so how was it that a stranger from another land knew of it?

Ahead of Fen Haltbar, the dark haired woman continued along the hall, passing two doors without so much as a second glance. Neither did she respond right away, and he began to wonder if he'd spoken aloud in the first place. He was about to repeat himself when Yori's voice cut the air.

"It is up ahead, through there. I can feel it now that we are closer."

In front of them, the hall ended in a sizable door, a decorative piece carved in relief, though the more intricate details were lost in the dim light and growing shadow. Yori's cryptic comment didn't quite answer his question, though Ronald was at least sure there was a purpose behind the visit.

Ronald nodded, not really understanding, but willing to let it go. He would have preferred something more solid, but if what she said was true, he would find out shortly in any case. The large wooden door didn't appear damaged, thought there was a faint line of light around the edges showing that it wasn't quite closed all the way.

Leading the way as she was, Yori reached the door first, pressing her hand against it. The door swung inward with mild protest, admitting the pair into what appeared to be the master chambers. The room was certainly expansive enough to be considered so, though Ronald wondered how the other rooms would compare. He didn't think that a guest room would be so far removed from the rest of the villa.

For a House that apparently valued privacy above all else, it certainly made sense that this was indeed a master suite. The wall opposite the door was completely taken up by a bay window, offering a mostly uninterrupted view of the ice clad lake.

Beneath the window, a curtained bed filled the rest of the space. It was unmade, and the accompanying sheets and linens were strewn haphazardly, partly on the floor. Most everything in the room was some shade of lavender, or blue, keeping with the stone architecture. An armoire and chest of drawers took up the interior wall, while a full length mirror hung from the side wall bordering the lake.

Yori made a beeline to the mirror, reaching one hand into her cloak to pull out a pendant, which she held tightly in her fist as she stood before her own reflection. "It's here," she whispered, head bowed and eyes closed in concentration.

"The mirror," Ronald asked, not seeing anything special about it from where he stood, though it was taller and wider than any personal mirror he'd ever seen.

"No, of course not," she said, nodding once and putting her free hand against the silvered glass surface for just a moment before withdrawing it, seemingly satisfied with whatever she'd found.

"Of course," the blond echoed with some exasperation. "So, what now?"

Yori turned to look at him. "I have journeyed very long to reach this place, and perhaps done you a disservice, leaving you in ignorance. But, you see, it would simply not do had you declined to accompany me," she said, pausing a moment before continuing with a question of her own. "Tell me, what do you know of the Idura?"

The blond just shook his head, "Idra? I don't think I've even heard that before."

"There is another word in your tongue," the dark haired woman tilted her head trying to recall what it was. Her grasp of the Imperial language was fairly solid, but some uncommon words still eluded her from time to time. "Dragon, yes, that is what Idura have become in this land. What do you know of them?"

"Dragons," Ron felt more than heard the hitch in his voice. Who didn't know of them, though it was all bedside tales and stories used to keep unruly children in line. No one had seen a Dragon in ages, probably more than a hundred years, or more. But, they were real enough, there was records and the oldest citizens often recalled tales from their youth when their own parents had once seen such a beast. In fact, one was said to dwell in the far mountains to the east.

"Only what I've heard from old tales. Dragons are vicious beasts, several times the size of a horse, and covered armor. They are fond of gold, and ah, young maidens," he supplied, wracking his brain for anything more specific, but the rest was hazy and long forgotten from his own childhood. "Oh, they have wings to carry them through the air, like a huge bird I suppose.

Yori shook her head as she listened, "Your stories of Idura are very different I think than the truth. Some parts are similar, in that Idura prefer silver, and they have use for maidenhood. The rest is removed from the truth. Idura have no need of wings, or armor. They have no shape to call their own, unless it is given. You will see for yourself soon enough."

"Wait, what are you talking about," Ronald found himself taking a step backward. He had no desire to find anything out about a Dragon first hand. Maybe if it was dead, he'd consider it.

"That is why I am here, to remove the Idura from your land. It came here long ago, after escaping from my country. My clan has been searching for a way to find it, and only recently found the means to do so," she held out the pendant that still hung from her neck.

"What does that have to do with me," Ronald asked, eyeing the small red jewel he could now see was imbedded in the end of the golden pendant.

Letting the pendant drop back inside her cloak, she continued, "I have dreamt of this place long before setting eyes on it. You see, dreams hold great meaning in my clan. Not all of us are so fortunate to see so clearly. One of our elders, my teacher, had a similar dream. We shared it, and one other. A dream of you, you and this," she removed the long wooden box she'd had slung over her shoulder and held it out toward the young noble. "Please," she gestured that he should take it from her hands.

Ronald wasn't sure what to make of all this sudden news, and found himself accepting the black and gold lacquered container. It was much heavier than it looked for only being five hand spans long and less than a quarter as wide. A small latch in the center of the box held the cover closed and the blond looked up to see that she meant him to open it as well.

Popping the latch, he lifted the lid with little preamble. Nestled neatly inside were three green metal segments, running the length of the box. The center piece was tipped with a leaf shaped blade, and he realized he was looking at what had to be a spear, separated into constituent parts, probably for ease of carry. Was she giving this to him, and what for?

Yori seemed to hear the unasked question, "It is called the Lotus Blossom, and one of the treasures of our clan. It hasn't been wielded in a very long time, because it only has one purpose, to defeat the Idura. You have been chosen by the Lotus Blossom to be the hand that wields it. That is the part you must play, Ronald Fen Haltbar, I have dreamt it."

"You're serious, aren't you," he stared at the spear, and the very sharp blade that was polished to such a degree his reflection stared back. "I don't even know how to use a spear, and you think I'll kill a Dragon with it?"

"It is a simple thing, a single thrust that you could not hope to miss. I will be taking care of everything else," she said with complete certainty, removing her cloak as she assured him.

Understandably, Ronald wasn't so quick to be assuaged, but didn't argue the point just yet. Something about the green metal held his attention and he barely noticed the dark material fall to the floor, or when more cloth began to join the cloak. By the time he looked back up and realized what was going on, he couldn't help but stare.

But, the heat flushing his face caused him to avert his eyes before long. "What are you doing," he stammered out, turning around to give her some vestige of privacy, though that didn't seem like it would really matter. When she didn't reply, he turned a little and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Somehow it seemed less honorable than looking at her directly, and at the same time there was a disconnect that made it mildly tolerable.

The Monbani woman continued to disrobe until she was left in her undergarments. Even then, it took a moment for the blond to understand just how little she was wearing. That was due to the black markings which covered her body from the base of her neck down to her toes. Only her face was spared the swirling patterns, patterns that didn't appear to be painted on.

Yori turned and stepped back to the mirror, not seeming to care that the young man was still staring entranced at her nearly nude state. Apparently, she wasn't quite ignoring his presence because she began to speak, "It is part of the ritual of binding," she offered up. Reaching out, she prodded at the frame and pulled at it. "This must move somehow," she said, messing with the mirror.

"You have to be naked," incredulity crept into the noble's voice, which hadn't hitched yet, to his surprise.

"The warding must be visible for it to be effective. It helps me focus, and that is half the battle. Idura do not always go willingly, and are less inclined to inter themselves in an unflattering vessel. They are creatures equal of vanity and destruction," she paused in her search along the edge of the mirror frame.

Yori regarded herself in the mirror, shaking her head at something only she could see. "But, they can be forced if the spell is strong enough, regardless of the vessel's appearance. Thus, why nothing can be left to chance, and the reason for this," she gestured at the writing covering nearly every inch of flesh.

Ronald had never seen the like of it, he could assuredly admit to himself, "That's not paint, is it?"

The Monbani grinned wryly, "No, Fen Haltbar, it is not paint. Doing so would risk everything. It would not have survived the long journey. These were applied using an old technique of needles and ink, and not a small amount of pain. But, that is of little significance when compared to what is ahead."

"Ahead?"

"Yes, my part is perhaps less than what is required of you, and the Lotus Blossom," she said, turning to look at him with a hardness in her eyes that spoke of an iron will. "I can only hold the Idura for so long. I do not know its full measure, and taking it back to my land is probably not written in my fate. So, that is where your fate ties in with mine. My dream of you tells me that much, the role you are to play."

"I don't understand," he met her gaze after some internal scuffling.

"As I mentioned, you have one strike to make," her eyes softened, betraying the emotions the woman was clearly doing her best to suppress in light of the task ahead. "It is here," she said, putting a hand to her breast, right above her heart. "Once I have bound the Idura, that is the only way to remove it from this world."

"Wait, I don't know about," Ronald shrunk back as the mere thought repulsed him.

"We are strangers, you and I. And this one act will save thousands of lives. It is a worthy sacrifice. You will be the slayer of a terrible beast, there is much honor in that. Honor that could restore your family, Ronald Fen Haltbar." Yori turned her attention back to uncovering the secret of the mirror, satisfied that she'd said her piece.

A click sounded from behind the frame as her hand brushed across a hidden catch. The floor tiles directly beneath the bottom of the frame began to slide sideways uncovering a gaping hole in the floor. A set of hand carved stone steps lead downward beneath the villa, in the direction of the lake. "Come, the Idura is this way," the young woman glanced back and gestured for Ronald to follow as she disappeared into the hole, giving him no chance to argue.

Blinking out of his stupor, the eldest heir to the Fen Haltbar name could do little but follow as he was bid. He didn't like this one bit. Not the Dragon, and certainly not the thought of killing a woman. This was a bad idea all around. What if he couldn't do it? This was a lot to ask of someone at the last moment. What could he do now, but start down the steps before him. Perhaps he could think of another way out of this mess before they reached wherever the passage led.


End file.
